Engendered Change
by Jadie Stee
Summary: In which the doctor is forced to change his body without dying and has difficulty coming to terms with the defilement of his physical form. Jack helps.
1. Changes

Title: Engendered Change

Author: Jadie

Summary: In which the doctor is forced to change his body without dying and has difficulty coming to terms with the defilement of his physical form. Jack helps.

Pairings: Ten/Jack

Genre: AU, hurt/comfort

Warnings: Nudity, sex, non-con (not rape), probably slash at some point or other at least referenced, possibly violence, Americanisms (not really on purpose, but probably on accident there will be a few), gender bender (whoops, did I just give away the plot? Oh well, not like you don't learn that within the first few paragraphs)

Spoilers: Doctor Who…possibly up to the 2009 Easter special. Torchwood…well I'm rather behind in Torchwood so probably nothing really that you wouldn't quickly learn in the first few episodes.

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I do not own Dr Who or Torchwood. I am making no money from this story.

Prologue: The Change

The change, when it happened, seemed inconsequential in contrast to everything else that was going on. The sudden difference in height was important only in that the doctor almost tripped over his own pants and did completely manage to fall right out of his shoes. As he was running for his lives at the time, he regrettably had to leave the converse behind like some strange alien Cinderella (if Cinderella were a 900 year old time lord and the prince she was escaping from wasn't so much looking for marriage as a chance to harvest her potential children in the usual mad scientist manner). There wasn't even time to roll up the pants or alternatively remove them; the doctor had to make do with holding them up and being particularly careful not to step on the extra length. The re-proportioning of mass was slightly more problematic than the height, partly because his center of balance had changed and partly because the lost mass had converted to energy that he had yet to find a way to dispel and so he felt it throughout his body as a constant electrical ache. This did not making running easier.

The situation being what it was, it was in fact surprising that he managed to make it to the TARDIS at all, albeit with barely enough time to slam the door shut in the face of the pursuing detainment force. If the force wasn't so determined to take the doctor back alive and relatively uninjured, he probably wouldn't have managed even that. But he did, and with slightly more effort than usual (the reach of his arms had changed with his height) he took the TARDIS into the vortex.

There, basking in the gentle hum of his machine, he finally had a chance to acknowledge what had been done to him. The ache of converted mass had grown almost unbearable but he was reluctant to dispel it. Dispelling it was practically giving in to his new form and he wasn't ready to face what he had become, let alone accept it. It wasn't really the change itself that upset him; he was somewhat used to changing his form after all. It was the way it had been forced upon him that made him feel sick. The way they had taken him, the scientists talking over his body as though he were nothing but some mindless creature that they had every right to study and experiment on. He shuddered and consciously attempted to turn his mind to other things. Like his sheer relief that they hadn't succeeded in their ultimate purpose. But they had certainly done enough, and no amount of redirecting his thoughts to inconsequential, mundane details was going to get around the new change. And it was a change unlike any he had ever faced, even through nine and a half different regenerations.

"Right," he said (and he was still a he as he stubbornly insisted inside his own head, no matter what his body currently looked like), "First things first…what did I do with that energy container?" His voice sounded strange in his own ears and he closed his mouth again, deciding for the moment not to speak out loud. It wasn't as though he had a companion he needed to relay things to. The container took longer than it should have to find, a testament to how distracted his mind was. He spent nearly thirty minutes rooting fruitlessly through the E's before realizing it was, in fact, stored under 'M' (for mass conversion portable containment extractor unit, because who wants a simple name when an interesting one would do?). The energy sparked between his finger and the extractor antenna like a particularly potent bit of static shock that left his entire body buzzing, but the deep ache of the energy was finally gone. He told himself it wasn't dispelled so much as relocated, and as such there was still hope. Even if it was very unlikely hope.

Then he sighed, gave up on forcing his thoughts into anything resembling normal, and allowed the TARDIS to guide him to his room in the vain hope that things would look better when he woke up. He didn't quite make it to the bed before he had to acknowledge the difference. He tripped, twice, just getting into the room. And there, once he had pulled off the ill fitting clothes, he didn't quite manage to avoid looking at himself in the mirror. And once he looked, he couldn't stop.

He was a woman.

He knew he was, of course. He had known it for at least an hour now, but it was quite different to know it, intellectually, and admit it at an internalized level. He was a woman. Grammatically speaking, he should be she. But he wasn't ready for that, not by a long shot, and his mind shied away from the very notion, going so far as to revert to thinking in the language of the Sakoor, a race of people who had only one gender and consequentially no need for a feminine pronoun. The syntax taken care of, he allowed himself to be distracted with the idea that this was just like exploring a new body after regeneration. No different at all. After all, regeneration was generally imposed upon him by outside circumstances rather than choice. And the change was even greater in those circumstances; this time he still had his personality and voice (well, accent anyway) after all. It wasn't like change should traumatize a time lord, no matter how unexpected. He would go to sleep and this…gender changing sickness, that was all it was, would be over and he would get on with his life. As a woman.

He had breasts. That was the first oddity he really noticed. Oh, his face had changed, subtly. Oddly enough his hair had mostly stayed the same; same style even the same length. Only the sideburns were missing. And His skin was slightly smoother, subtly changed to a more feminine effect. So it was different but not jarring. And he was shorter. A good deal shorter, in fact, judging by the length of pants he had tripped over. He refused to measure himself though; if he didn't measure himself then he could pretend it wasn't more than a few inches. Even if he knew otherwise. The lack of height went hand in hand with a slighter form; if he was skinny before he looked positively fragile now. All except for his chest which had blossomed into two mounds of voluminous flesh, otherwise known as breasts. He resisted the urge to poke one and see if it would jiggle. They were disturbingly ample proof that his body had truly changed. And he was missing something rather vital males.

Of course he didn't have a penis anymore. The weight at his chest was balanced by the distinctive lack of weight between his legs. Finally, perhaps to avoid playing with the breasts, he brought an exploratory finger to that space where his dick once hanged. It felt strange, squishy and fleshy and hot. Holding his legs apart and bending over didn't give him a satisfactory look at this new change, but the a small hand mirror allowed him to look in detail. It looked to him like a pair of grotesque mutated lips and he dropped the mirror quickly. Not like he had never seen a vagina before anyway; just usually not quite so…attached. That made it uglier somehow, because it shouldn't be there. Not that he had seen someone else's in quite some time (though quite a few of his companions lately had seemed quite willing to let him look). He touched it again, gasping suddenly as his finger ran over a particularly sensitive part, and he pulled his hand away sharply. He suddenly felt perverted, no matter that it was his own body, and he turned away from the mirror.

None of his pajamas really fit, of course, but he was not at all in the mood to go to bed naked. He wanted the shield of clothes, even ridiculously loose clothes, so he pulled on a striped pair. They weren't really comfortable and they forced him to notice his change in size, but they still allowed some armor to hide from the sight of his new body. Later, he told himself, he would wake up and he would feel fine. He'd go to the wardrobe, and he'd explore the changes thoroughly. It would be a fun adventure, the changes, until he could find a way to change himself back. Because he would, of course he would. It would all be all right. When he woke up.

Six hours later he did wake up, felt the utter differentness of who he was, and burst into helpless tears..


	2. Wardrobe

Chapter 2

The tears were brief. The doctor managed to pull himself together with the firm resolve that he was fine and that this…change was merely a temporary adventure. It should be embraced as a chance for an experience that few could boast of, to get to know what it's like as the opposite sex. So with this in mind, he resolutely marched himself to the wardrobe room.

Finding clothes that fit was rather harder than he expected. It wasn't that there weren't any so much as that there weren't any he really felt comfortable wearing. Adventurous though he tried to be, he was in no way ready for a dress. Or anything that looked particularly feminine. In fact, what he really really wanted, was what he always wore. Except in a size that fit. And there was nothing remotely like that in his size. Which was just plain ridiculous considering the wardrobe's resources and size.

"Come on!" he cried out loud, "There has to be something that fits and isn't frilly or pink!" His voice didn't make him cringe quite so much this time, perhaps because he was too distracted by his annoyance. Anger was better than sobbing any day. And if the wardrobe got a bit…messy, well, it was its own fault for not having what he wanted. Which was, if he was really honest with himself, a way to change back into a man or undo the past few days completely so the memories would get out of his head. Now if only time machines could work like that.

He was about ready to pull on one of Adric's old outfits (never mind that the style was completely against his current aesthetics, or the fact that wearing a dead companion's clothes, a companion who was dead _because_ he was his companion, was about as good an idea as poking at a scabbed over wound with a hot poker) when he finally admitted that he wasn't going to get what he wanted. So he gave over shredding a few period dresses who had done nothing more than mock him in their frilly girly elegance, and gave in. Not to the dresses but to the fact that he simply had to make do with what he could find and possibly go shopping later. If he could find a place to shop where no one he has ever met or will ever meet would see him.

It took at least an hour of trying on clothes after that to admit that the girl's outfits were easier. Even the smaller men's clothes tended to be a bit on the baggy side when he tried them on, or far too tight across the chest. Rose's clothes fit, somewhat, but he felt too weird to wear them, even the least girly one's. Plus it was a bit disconcerting when his trials in her clothes revealed he was actually shorter than her now. He swore those scientists must have purposefully shrunk him; surely merely switching genders shouldn't have lost him that much height! Had Jenny been this short? And wasn't that a lovely thing to think of; as long as he was going to be nostalgic, standing among racks and racks of memories his thoughts had to throw a dead daughter into it. He might as well throw on Adric's clothes with Rose's sneakers. And now he was back to crying again. He'd blame it on being a woman but he knew better.

Arguing with himself did no good either. He knew this wasn't the worst thing to ever happen to him. All things considered, it probably shouldn't even rate the top ten. It was just…difficult to get a handle on for some reason. It had been a while since he had felt so helpless in such a personal way. Being threatened with death, either to himself or his companions was one thing. This was different. Not as bad as, say, the time war. Maybe more along the lines of being possessed and almost thrown out of a shuttle by a bunch of humans and burned up by the sun. That had left him feeling similar, but then there had been Donna. Another companion gone.

He ended up wearing generic black trousers. The wardrobe had millions of them in all different sizes and with a single-minded purpose he sorted through them until he found some that fit. The top he finally grabbed was blue and not really to his current taste but bland enough that it didn't repel him either. A bra was pushing it, but he finally conceded that the things flouncing about on his chest were rather awkward when given free range. Finding one to wear was awkward as well, but at least they didn't bring up memories, good or bad, as he had no idea if anyone had ever worn the one he found before him. Luckily it was from a late enough century that it adjusted to his size automatically and he didn't have to work hard to figure it out. But under absolutely no circumstances was he going to wear panties. Pants were just fine.

He was just getting into the whole dressing thing, searching out a coat that didn't completely swamp him but still could offer large pockets, when the phone rang.

He froze, the relaxed, enjoyable atmosphere evaporating with the shrill ring that echoed from nearby. Of course it was nearby; even if it wasn't to begin with the TARDIS had obliged by bringing it within hearing distance the moment it started ringing. He didn't want to answer it.

Answering it meant someone needed him. _Him_, him; as in the man Doctor. And while he wasn't really that different; nothing like as though he'd regenerated; he wasn't ready to take this new form out for a spin, so to speak. It was partly from the desire to hide from what had happened and not have to explain it to anyone, and partly pure embarrassment. He really, really didn't want anyone to see him like this. So much so that he actually considered just letting it ring.

He didn't of course. There was a chance, a small one, that someone was just calling to say hi. It did happen from time to time. But more likely he was needed, and no matter that he had forgone companions, he wasn't about to leave his old friends in a lurch. But he didn't run, either. He reached his phone just as it stopped ringing. Before he could begin to set about calling back, it started ringing again. He still didn't answer it until the third ring, holding it gingerly to his ear as though he expected it to bite him any second.

"Hello?" he asked, then cringed as he remembered his changed voice. Clearing his throat and attempting a lower octave he repeated, "Hello?"

"Doctor?" Martha Jones's voice came into the phone, "Is that you? You sound odd."

"Er…" the Doctor said, "I have a cold?" There was a short pause at the other end. If Martha had been there, before him, she never would have let him get away with that. Of course, if she was there, before him, she already know what was the matter. But apparently she decided the oddity of his voice could wait.

"Doctor, I just got a call from Jack," she said, "He says he's stuck in 1983 and he needs a ride."

"What?!" the Doctor cried, frowning, "He didn't try something with his vortex manipulator did he? Because I told him…"

"It wasn't that, it was…" Martha interrupted him, but before she could continue he was talking again.

"Or the weeping angels! You remember that! When we…"

"The rift!" she cried before he could go on, "And are you sure you're alright, your voice really does sound odd."

"I'm fine," the Doctor mumbled, and then, "Well can't you use the rift to bring him back?" And if he sounded just the slightest bit whiny it was only because he didn't want to use the TARDIS like an inter-temporal taxi cab and had nothing to do with the fact that Jack was the absolutely last person he wanted to show off his new figure to.

"And he said you better come and to remind you that you owe him for the last time he needed a ride and you didn't come," Martha answered, sounding slightly as though she were reciting something from notes, "And to say that if you _don't_ come this time, he's going to seek out his counterpart and see if they can't figure something out between them."

"What!" the Doctor cried, even though he knew Jack probably wasn't really serious. Probably. It still didn't stop the Doctor from ranting for nearly five minutes straight on exactly why that was such a bad idea. He suspected Martha had stopped listening after the first few seconds and was just waiting on the other end for him to finish. He finally did with, "And how did he call you up anyway? And if he has a phone, why didn't he just call me in the first place?"

"He called me because my number was the only one he knew that he could reach from the year 1983," she answered, "And he couldn't call you because he didn't know the number."

"That's ridiculous," he said, "You could have given it to him."

"He said he was out of quarters. Should I send you the exact specifics of his location?" The Doctor almost said not to bother because the TARDIS could probably find him easily enough. But then it occurred to him that there were probably two Jacks running around and as much as he didn't want to see Jack, he really didn't want to see the old, probably still pissed off at him Jack. So Martha texted him the information Jack had given her so he could find the right Jack and she ended the call with a jovial, "See you soon."

Terrific. Not only did he have to pick up Jack but he'd probably have to see Martha now too. Maybe the TARDIS could 'accidently' miss the time slightly and drop Jack off in the middle of the night.

Sighing and giving into the inevitable (and as much as he didn't want to do it, he knew he really couldn't just leave Jack there. And not just because he was his friend. Having two Jacks in the same timeline was just asking for trouble.)

But he wasn't going to go before he found himself a decent pair of shoes.


	3. Jack

With a wheezing cry, the TARDIS tore into Cardiff where a lone man stood waiting, leaning casually against a wall. No one else was there to see the police box's appearance. Jack waited for the doors to open and for the Doctor to invite him inside. They didn't open. Finally, he sauntered over to the doors and knocked with one brief rap before he pulled out his key.

"Hello?" he called as he stepped inside, "Doctor, you home?" The room was empty. Jack walked a full circuit around it just to be sure the Doctor wasn't knocked unconscious on the far side of the console because it wouldn't be the first time the TARDIS had given him a rough ride though usually he was good at hanging on, or lucky enough to land on the cushioned seat. The Doctor wasn't there.

"Where is he, girl?" he asked out loud, patting the TARDIS's wall. He could feel her humming, both beneath his hand and inside his mind. She sounded concerned, but not direly so. Something had happened, but the real danger was past. Jack didn't know what to think, whether he should be worried or not. If the Doctor was fine, why wasn't he here to greet Jack? And if he wasn't, how did he manage to drive the TARDIS in the first place to pick him up? Then the TARDIS gave him a faint nudge towards the corridor and he started walking in search of the elusive Doctor.

He finally found his feet sticking out from a panel. At least he assumed they were the Doctor's feet; they were missing the familiar converse and looked a tad…different. He wasn't quite sure why; it wasn't like he had made a study of the Doctor's feet (at least no more than the rest of him) but he was almost certain they were too small. He wasn't at all sure this wasn't a companion, except to wonder why a companion would be hiding under a panel. It suddenly occurred to him there was another reason the Doctor would look different.

"Doctor?" he asked, worried now.

"Jack?" the Doctor answered, his voice sounding odd but still familiar. He couldn't have changed that much if he still had that accent. "I'm a bit busy," the Doctor said, "I don't suppose you could fly the TARDIS and let yourself out?" Now Jack knew something was wrong.

"You want me to fly the TARDIS," Jack said. "Your TARDIS. Alone."

"Er…yes?" the Doctor answered.

Jack opened his mouth, then closed it again. He stared at the feet. One was moving nervously, tapping against the other. "Alright," he said at last, and he turned to walk back to the consol3 room. He counted to seven in his head before he heard movement behind him.

"Jack!" the Doctor cried. "Wait!"

He turned back around. He could still only see feet.

"Yes?" he asked, trying to hide his grin. He knew there was no way the Doctor would really let him pilot alone. He heard a sigh from behind the panel.

"Alright, just…close your eyes," he said.

Jack frowned. "Come on, Doc, you're beginning to scare me here," he said, "Whatever it is can't be that bad." To which the Doctor mumbled something that the TARDIS didn't translate, but he finally began to shift himself out of the panel.

The panel looked quite small from the outside, far too small to hold an entire person, but the feet were most definitely attached to legs, which in turn came out to reveal a torso. Before his mind had more than a few seconds to realize something really didn't look right there, the arms followed and a head ducked out. The Doctor stood quickly and then stared defiantly at Jack, daring him to say something.

Jack stared appraisingly. Oddly enough, the first difference that registered wasn't the height, or the softened features in his face, or even the most damning evidence billowing from his chest. It was that he had changed out of his usual outfit. Jack had grown used to the suit and it was strange to imagine him in something different. Of course, the rest of the changes soon caught his eye and he couldn't help but sweep his gaze up and down his (her) new body.

"Doc?" Jack asked, trying very hard to keep his tone neutral. "What happened? Did you…die?"

"No," he/she answered shortly. The change in voice was even more obvious now that it wasn't muffled by the wall. The Doctor was shifting from foot to foot now, a movement not at all characteristic with his/her tenth form. Jack couldn't quite stop the grin or the thought that he/she looked rather cute like that, despite the worry that still coursed through him. The Doctor was acting out of character; even taking into account the shock and probable embarrassment of becoming a woman.

"Well?" he/she sudden snapped after a full minute had gone by while Jack just stared, "Aren't you going to start with the innuendo? Comment on how pretty I look?" Jack held out his hands in a submissive gesture.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he insisted, and he wouldn't. Well, not out loud. Not until the Doctor had stopped radiating this nervous…fear. That's what it was. The Doctor actually looked a bit afraid. Surely not of him? "Doctor," Jack said again, "what happened." He/she slumped slightly, looking down. Then with a painfully obvious effort, the Doctor stood up straight and strode with bouncing steps towards the console room.

"Just a bit of a run in with some scientists, you know the kind," the Doctor answered in a purposefully light voice. If he/she had been speaking to anyone but Jack the Doctor might have gotten away with it, too. But Jack had always had a knack for seeing right through the Doctor's upbeat masks.

"What did they do?" Jack demanded, refusing to let the Doctor hide. The Doctor froze for one brief step, his/her back still to him.

"You can see what they did, Jack," the Doctor answered, and he/she was walking again.

"Come on, Doc, you know what I mean," Jack answered, reaching out a hand to grasp the Doctor's shoulder. The Doctor froze and flinched away, before walking away faster. Jack's concern tripled. Something really really wasn't right here.

The Doctor refused to look at him as he/she started to set the coordinates to take him home. Nothing was going how the Doctor had hoped, though not as bad as he had feared. It had been a stupid idea in the first place, trying to hide from Jack. He should have marched out with a light step to meet him, let him ogle and make jokes and come-ons, and then dropped him off before he could get too suspicious about the Doctor's attitude. But he had hidden, and flinched, and now the Doctor knew it would take a miracle to get rid of Jack. He tried anyway, sending the TARDIS flying through the vortex. Jack uncharacteristically stood back and watched, not offering to help.

He was acting different than the Doctor had expected. The Doctor had expected flirtatious Jack or teasing or lewd suggestions. Which wasn't to say there hadn't been a gleam of appreciation when Jack had looked him over, not really much different than how he always had looked at the Doctor. But there was something disconcerting, almost disappointing, about a Jack who wasn't really flirting. The Doctor had almost forgotten that, as over sexed and flirtatious as Jack generally acted, he did know how to be discreet when the situation called for it. Jack apparently felt this situation warranted. Then the TARDIS landed and the Doctor practically ran to the door, hoping that it would open on an empty plaza. It didn't.

Which was not to say he faced hordes of old companions, his main worry. There wasn't even Martha, or Jack's team, or perfect strangers. The difficulty was, it hadn't opened on the plaza either.

Behind the Doctor, the console sparked and started to give off smoke.


	4. Explore

Chapter 4

Jack stood back, watching as this new Doctor ran around the console crying, "No, no, no, no, no!" S'he reached for something and pulled, only to jerk h'er hand back when it sparked. "Come on!" s'he cried, whapping the side of the consul (whether in an effort to fix it or through frustration wasn't clear), "Don't do this! Not here, not now!"

"Problem, Doc?" Jack asked, moving from his position slouched against a wall to take a close look. It was disconcertingly familiar and alien to watch the Doctor be so…Doctor-y despite the changed appearance. Last time he had seen the Doctor change, he had had to get used to completely new mannerisms. Now the Doctor looked different but moved the same. Finally, the Doctor stopped h'er frantic dance to fix things and h'er shoulders slumped.

"So…" Jack said, attempting to retain an atmosphere of loose casualty, despite the growing tension, "how long are we stuck here for?"

"I don't know," the Doctor admitted. "She's being…stubborn."

Jack had suspected as much and refrained from the urge to stroke the console. In the first place, he didn't want the Doctor to see them as plotting together. In the second, she was still quite hot and would likely burn his hand. He also resisted asking the Doctor more questions. S'he wouldn't answer, and it would only put h'er on edge. Thanks to the TARDIS they had time.

"Well then," Jack said in lieu of the questions, "why don't we take a look around?"

The Doctor finally turned to face him again, h'er expression a cross between puzzled, angry, and scared. It slowly morphed into a more familiar expression, somewhere between schoolboy playing hooky (girl now, really) and manic glee.

"Well, why not?" s'he asked as s'he pulled on a coat that looked far too large for h'er but was small enough that it wouldn't trip h'er or fall off. "Alright then, allons-y!" And s'he marched out the door. A bit bemused by the sudden change in attitude, Jack followed.

The Doctor, for his part, was feeling a strange reversal to the desperation that had made him avoid leaving the TARDIS. Now that he was almost assured of not running into anyone who would recognize him or remark upon the changes (except for Jack, of course, but he was kind of stuck with him) the TARDIS suddenly felt confining. An adventure was just what he needed to break in this new form and stop acting so…girly. Maybe by the end of it he would even get used to it.

It helped with his new adventurous outlook that there were no people outside the TARDIS waiting to gawk at his feminine charms. Nothing but trees and flowers anyway he looked. It rather confirmed that this trip wasn't nearly as accidental as the TARDIS had tried to claim. But no matter, perhaps it was for the best. An easy adventure that wasn't really an adventure at all was just what he needed. She needed. Perhaps he should start by trying, at least, to embrace his new form. Her new form. This was going to take some getting used to. As a start, he could at least stop thinking in Sakoorian. Besides, their understanding of two genders was rather limited and they tended to speak of alien genders as 'two people who are as one'. And he really wasn't comfortable thinking of Jack in those terms. She wasn't.

"Well, Doc, this looks pretty tame," Jack said. "Not Cardiff, I see."

"You know you just jinxed it, right?" the Doctor answered, ignoring the Cardiff bit. "Good thing I found these running shoes. Not my usual style, of course, but it couldn't be helped."

Jack only snorted in response, and together they walked through a nearby grove and over a moderately steep hill. The Doctor almost felt disappointed when they met nothing more threatening than a rather splendid view of a lake on the other side. There were no signs of people, or even animals. The trees were empty of birdsong and any rustling they could hear clearly came from the wind. There wasn't even the buzz of insects.

"Now this reminds me of something…" the Doctor frowned, eyeing the peaceful scene with trepidation. Perhaps the lake would turn out to be acid or the home to a tentacled particularly hungry toad of some sort. He found himself caressing one of the flowers just to make sure it wasn't stone. The world sounded so empty of anything but green.

"There is something odd," Jack pointed out. "Why flowers if there are no insects?"

"Maybe they're nocturnal," the Doctor suggested, sounding intrigued. He…she looked more closely at one of the blossoms. It smelled sweet and it didn't look particularly alien. The Doctor felt more comfortable now that there was the vague threat of creatures coming out in the night. Perhaps a camping trip was in order, just to wait and see.

They reached the lake with no trouble and little conversation. Despite his very pointed lack of questions, the Doctor could still feel Jack's eyes boring into his…her back whenever his/her back was turned. The atmosphere between them still felt tense; the Doctor knew Jack wasn't going to leave it alone but he/she was just as determined to not talk about it. What would talking help? It was done, the Doctor would get over it and life would go on. He was already getting over it. She.

"Well," Jack said, "should we try out the lake?" He stripped off his coat and started on his top. Knowing Jack, he wasn't planning to stop there.

"Do you really think that's wise?" the Doctor asked when Jack had gotten his shoes off and had started to pull down his suspenders. Still trying to act nonchalant to Jack's streaker tendencies, no matter what the reality was, he/she added, "You don't know what's in there. Or if it's really water."

"I think I'll take my chances," Jack answered, and without even a modicum of modesty he pulled the rest of his clothes off and waded into the lake. The Doctor stood frowning on the bank, watching Jack without looking at him. Jack did have a fine body (particularly for his age…had he reached two centuries yet? Normally the Doctor's time sense could detect a person's age with no difficulty, but Jack's status as a fixed point screwed that up). The Doctor allowed him/herself to be distracted by considering his age, and pondering the fact that a concept he had found painful and…wrong in the beginning he was beginning to find a bit comforting. Jack was a solid rock in a turbulent stream. As much as he disrupted things, he was something strong. And he did have a nice body (and didn't he know it to?) The Doctor snorted to him/herself, stubbornly sure that he/she was not going to look, and then looked anyway.

Jack was mostly underwater by then anyway. As he wasn't screaming in agony and was still grinning, the Doctor deduced that the lake wasn't acid after all, and so far appeared devoid of lurkers in the depths ready to pull the unwary to a watery grave. Or in Jack's case, at the very least a very unpleasant experience.

"Come on, Doc!" Jack called him. "At least take off your shoes!"

"Right," the Doctor answered. "And the minute I do some great driggliodon of a creature will come upon us and I'll have to run barefoot all the way back to the TARDIS."

"No, you wouldn't," Jack answered. "Driggliodons can't swim."

"I said like," the Doctor pointed out. But he did finally sit down and remove the shoes and socks. Reptilian creatures with sharp teeth and no buoyancy failed to appear.

Jack continued to swim, enjoying the break while conjuring the Doctor to join him. He didn't expect h'er to actually remove h'er clothes, (s'he wouldn't have as a man, and was even less likely to as a woman), but he hoped he'd at least get h'er to wade a bit with h'er clothes on. It was warm enough that s'he would dry quickly afterwards. So Jack was very surprised when the Doctor started pulling down h'er trousers.


	5. Lake

Chapter 5

If Jack expected h'er to strip down in the same manner he had, he was sorely disappointed. S'he pulled down h'er trousers to reveal perfectly modest striped boxer shorts on beneath; s'he might as well have been wearing a bathing suit, and a modest one at that. The Doctor hesitated with h'er top. On the one hand, Jack was the last person s'he wanted to start showing off h'er new body to. On the other hand, it was just Jack. He might flirt and make lewd remarks but at the same time and in a slightly paradoxical manner (and what about Jack wasn't a paradox in the making?) he was safe. He would flirt madly but he wouldn't press himself onto anyone. Feeling slightly defiant (the Doctor was not going to let this…gender thing affect her) s'he finally pulled off h'er top, suddenly thankful s'he had decided to go with the bra.

Jack grinned and whistled playfully, but held his hands up in surrender under the Doctor's glare. "Sorry, Doc, I'll be good. I promise," he said, "Just…come on in, the water's fine!" The Doctor continued to glare suspiciously while s'he made a big show of checking the lake with h'er sonic screwdriver just to make absolute sure it was safe. Considering it was usually the Doctor who plunged head first into the unknown without checking it first, Jack thought that was a bit unfair. That, or it was another symptom of whatever was wrong with the Doctor, not trusting h'er environment. As if the TARDIS would have chosen a dangerous location for this trip.

The Doctor actually looked a bit disappointed when the lake turned out to contain nothing more than H2O. Well…water and a few harmless microorganisms and plant life. Possibly fish as well, unless the lake proved to be as barren as the hillside. Finally the Doctor relinquished h'er sonic screwdriver and slowly glided into the lake.

The water was cool. If she were human she might have even called it cold, but being what she was she found it very pleasant. Jack wasn't shivering either, so even by human standards it couldn't have felt particularly arctic, and beneath the hot sun it was a blessing. S'he did frown slightly when s'he moved towards where Jack was standing and felt the ground slope away from her feet. Jack's grin widened at her predicament though he refrained from saying anything. Suddenly, the Doctor found Jack's lack of teasing quite annoying. S'he wasn't made of glass, no matter what Jack suddenly seemed to think. Jack was supposed to give her a hard time about being short, about having breasts, about…well…everything! He was safe and he was…infuriating! He hadn't even tried to splash h'er yet, or suggested that s'he join him properly in the nude! (S'he ignored the previous whistle; it barely counted and only proved that Jack hadn't been replaced by a clone). Well…s'he would show him s'he hadn't turned to glass. Flashing him a wicked grin of her own, she dove beneath the murky water.

Jack's grin vanished when he saw her dive, though it still hovered about his lips. He waited for tensely for h'er to grab his leg or (more likely considering his lack of clothing and the murkiness of the water) for h'er to suddenly resurface before him. He stared into the rippled blue, trying to see into its depths. Nothing stirred. A whole minute passed.

Respiratory bypass or not, Jack was beginning to feel just a little nervous now, and not the fun kind of nervous. Did she get caught up in the weeds at the bottom? Was something lurking, something with tentacles or sharp teeth? Surely if she was distressed there'd be some sign, some disturbance of the water…

"Yah!" Jack cried when something grabbed his foot and yanked. His cry was cut short as his head slipped beneath the water, his arms flailing. A moment later he managed to right himself as the Doctor burst from the surface of the water, still grinning wickedly. Jack sputtered, the water burning his nose and the Doctor began to laugh outright at the expression on his face. His eyes narrowed and took on a mischievous gleam.

The Doctor, seeing the look in Jack's eyes, stopped laughing and gave him a wide-eyed look of pleading innocence, as though s'he hadn't just purposefully dunked him.

"Jack?" s'he said, literally back pedaling in the water, "Jack, come on, haven't I taught you that retaliation and violence are not the answer?"

"You know me," Jack answered, affecting an innocent air that wasn't fooling anyone, "I'm always up for a good lesson." He managed to make 'lesson' sound like something particularly lewd and the Doctor's nose wrinkled as s'he was distracted, quite possibly trying to figure out what lessons had to do with sex. Or simply reacting to Jack's continuous flirting, Jack wasn't sure, but he used the distraction to his advantage. He lunged, the water rippling in mad waves as he used his height to his advantage, planting his feet and grabbing the Doctor into a surprisingly non-sexual hold considering his recent words, not to mention lack of clothing. Which wasn't to say he wasn't enjoying the hold, just that he was enjoying the Doctor's half furious, half laughing reaction to the hold more. Jack managed to twist h'er up so he was holding h'er like a child, a fete he never would have managed so smoothly on dry land but here in the water his only difficulty was flailing limbs and shouted death threats. It also helped that at this depth he was the only one actually standing.

Before the Doctor had a chance to do more than shriek and make a few rather creative and highly unlikely threats Jack grinned and tossed h'er out deeper into the water. S'he sputtered back to the surface, a look of indignant fury on h'er face (the good kind of fury, not the scared kind he had seen earlier in the TARDIS, not the Time Lord fury of the Oncoming Storm when danger loomed). Then the war was on.

It lasted a good ten minutes and ended in a truce in which they both agreed not to tell the other who had very obviously won. The floated in the lake a while longer in companionable silence, the sun warm on their faces while the cool currents of water gently rocked their still forms. Neither looked at the other, content to stare upwards into the blue of the sky, watching the windswept clouds. Finally, the Doctor broke the silence.

"I was an alien." Jack said nothing, but he listened intently, his relaxed thoughts sharpening on h'er words. The Doctor continued to float as well, eyes firmly fixed upon the clouds. Just when the silence had gone on for long enough that Jack wondered if he shouldn't speak after all, s'he continued.

"I was an alien, and they were curious," the Doctor continued, h'er voice deceptively relaxed for h'er words, "Friendly. Well, I say friendly, I mean they did sort of welcome me and were all excited and very…friendly. And curious. But…I was alien." Jack listened, tempted to cut in when the Doctor's voice sped up, the words becoming distracted. But he didn't because he knew if he did, the Doctor might very well stop talking completely. The way s'he was repeating h'erself was disturbing, especially the way s'he kept saying 'alien'. Somehow Jack didn't think s'he just meant in the sense of 'not from their planet'. There was alien and then there was _alien_. Different. Not One Of Us.

"And they decided they need more…aliens," the Doctor continued, barely pausing for breath, "So they decided to grow them once they had the…the bits they needed to do that. Nothing like as advanced as a progenation machine, well I say not as advanced, I mean it was really quite clever but a bit more test tube baby; of course a progenation machine wouldn't have given them what they wanted anyway, apparently they wanted to see the whole process, to really understand…"

"Doctor," Jack cried, unable to hold himself back anymore, "What did they do?" The Doctor went silent and Jack twisted his body in the water, looking at where s'he still floated, still staring into the clouds. Finally, s'he turned to look at him.

"They took what they needed," s'he said, "And they turned me into a woman so they could…take the other parts." At Jack's blank look the Doctor took a deep breath and stated quite clearly, "Sperm. And eggs. But they didn't…I escaped before they could complete it. And here I am." Jack tried to stare into h'er eyes, to figure out what he should do. What he wanted to do, of course, was grab a blaster, find that planet, and burn it to the ground. He wanted the cold feeling that curled into the pit of his stomach when he stared in the Doctor's eyes to go away; for the day to go back to splashing and flirting and laughter and that bad, painfully deep yet disturbingly empty look to be gone. Then the Doctor turned away and swam swiftly for the shore, not looking back to see if he followed. He did.

The Doctor, for h'er part, didn't know why s'he had told Jack that. Why s'he had suddenly decided to tell him everything, while at the same time telling him nothing. The details weren't important anyway, not really; this…darkness s'he felt would pass and the gender sickness too. If s'he could get over the loss of h'er people, of h'er companions, of every dark or tainted bit that lay in h'er past then s'he would get over this. It was nothing, not compared to the dark places that were stored in the recesses of h'er memory.

But of course now Jack wasn't going to let it go and he would probably go back to treating h'er weird, like s'he was broken. Like he wanted something from h'er or for h'er that he himself didn't understand. Even more confusing, the Doctor found h'erself wanting that something…whatever it was, and that scared h'er almost more than telling Jack about the scientists had. So s'he did what s'he did best, what s'he always did when getting close to Jack started to scare h'er. S'he ran.

S'he knew it was pointless to try, even as she swiftly pulled on her shoes; s'he wouldn't put it past Jack to run after h'er stark naked, maybe even shoeless if he thought s'he needed him. But s'he was going to try anyway. Or s'he was until s'he heard the startled yelp from the lake followed by a splash. The Doctor turned just in time to see Jack vanishing beneath the surface of the water. S'he waited, unconsciously holding h'er breath as she waited for Jack to surface, half expecting it to be another game, maybe a ploy to make stop h'er desperate flight. But he didn't surface. And the world was silent and still once more.


End file.
